Blood On The Collar
by StreetLightSaint
Summary: AU after Kate's death. What if Vincent Adler had been a vampire, and the real treasure he was obsessed with had nothing to do with gold or stolen art? Peter/Neal, one-sided Adler/Neal, Slash.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own White Collar or claim to...*cries*

A/N: Hi y'all, I thought it would be fun to throw Peter and Neal into the world of Vampires, so please review and tell me what you think.

**Blood on the Collar**

Chapter one

Living an extended time in this world gave you a deep appreciation for the good things in life. Those good things, the more you invested in them, could only get better. That's' what Vincent Adler believed, and really, he would know. The best of everything wasn't hard to acquire, not when Adler really put all his impressive resources into the job. However, obtaining that which was perfect, flawless, that was an insurmountable feat no man should attempt as it tended to lead to heartbreak, death, or worse. Luckily, Adler wasn't a man. Certainly male, but not precisely a man, not human, he was something…better. At one time, long ago, he could have laid claim to being human, well, as close to human as Adler could possibly get. Men like him were born, predators like him were made in a much less philosophical sense.

When he was six he pushed another boy into the violently churning wheels and bone-crushing hooves of a carriage. The boy hadn't done anything truly unforgivable to him; they'd been what constituted as friends on the homeless streets of London only a week before. Children surviving together shouldn't keep secrets from each other, he thought, when he found out the boy had been squirreling away a small portion of the money they finagled out of old rich ladies, throwing coins to just to see them gone, instead of buying food for the two of them like they agreed they would he had to say he was not pleased. That wasn't the spirit of sharing so the young Vincent Adler decided his partner wasn't trustworthy. It was the first murder Adler had ever committed but not the last.

The night Adler woke up in a pool of his own blood feeling like death incarnate was the second most pain he'd ever felt. Subsequent hangings, stabbings, and shootings of a "life" fully lived paled to that moment. His _maker_, because gods know he wasn't going to call that bitch _mom_ had hung around a century too long for his tastes. Then the world became a watercolor of vibrant purples, blues, and crushed blacks, eventually a world like that becomes desolate. Too cold and dark to support the beauty of life. In response he took life from beauty. Owned it, smothered it, watched with mild interest while it withered and died.

Each and every time fed the monster he was and the new one he was becoming. He'd never once regretted the road he'd gone down full-force. No, Adler was too much of a narcissus to lie to himself, once he did regret it. Only once. Nick came into his life like a brilliant falling star in the night sky. The young man sparked a curiosity and lust in him Adler had thought that was buried in some forgotten tomb off a dead coast. Nick was the golden fleece, the cursed treasure, the one perfect unobtainable object that left tragedy in its wake. Adler couldn't help himself, wanting to get close. He wavered in and out of control, something he'd never had to struggle with before. All because he didn't want to scare Nick away.

For a while life, or unlife in Adler's case, was good. Even with Nick's fascination with dear Kate. Adler even went so far as to foster the relationship further, just to have the beautiful young man kept close. Not only was Adler taken with his rare beauty but also his rare mind held just as much enthralling beauty. When he found out his personal Adonis was con artist named Neal Caffrey he was furious. Neal wasn't trustworthy. Adler had always dealt with those who lied to him in a particular manner. Screaming, lots and lots of screaming was usually involved. But he couldn't bring himself to do anything like that to…_Neal, _the name did fit better. So Adler left, completing a con of his own, and hell followed with him.

Funny thing was he couldn't leave entirely. Adler watched Neal develop into one of the most talented, if not the most talented, confidence men in the world. He couldn't help it, he was impressed, he was oddly proud too. During that time he shoved the pieces of his a broken heart he didn't know he'd had into the dark recess of his mind. Neal in prison though, that just wouldn't do. A plan began to formulate in his mind, a way to hit two birds with one stone while getting his golden fleece, for good this time.

* * *

"Peter."

"Neal."

"_Peter."_

"_Neal."_

Mozzie sat back and watched the two stare daggers at each other across the table, it should have been funny if it weren't for the suit's atmosphere-smothering subtext.

"I call bullshit! Lemme see your card Caffrey!" Peter exclaimed triumphantly. Mozzie regretted suggesting a card game where the whole point was to lie your ass off, most of the time with June, Neal, and him it was great fun, the suit took things too seriously. And Neal just played off that like a kid in a candy store, a fed themed candy store. The creepiness made Mozzie shudder. Still, he was glad to get some type of normalcy after Kate's death. Neal was the one of the two people in the world he considered family, seeing him suffer was a kick to the gut. Time had passed but he could see Neal, truly see him when he though no one was looking.

Neal's face was blank until he lifted the card he'd threw into the pile on the table with two fingers, Neal broke into a grin that would have made Mother Teresa pregnant by the mere sight of it.

"You cheated!" Peter accused pointing with his chopsticks.

"I did not sore loser. And pointing with chopsticks is considered very rude in Japan." Neal's tone was placating but he couldn't keep the glimmer of mischief out of his blue eyes.

Peter pursed his lips and eyed him suspiciously, "What were you doing in Japan?" Moz looked everywhere but at the suit, remembering full well what they did in Japan.

"Enjoying the cherry blossom festival." Neal lied smoothly. Well, it wasn't _exactly_ a lie, the festival was going on when he and Moz flew in and it was very nice. If some priceless imperial treasures went missing at the same time they happened to leave the country on an uncharted ship then that could hardly be his fault.

Peter chalked it up into the shit he did not need to know file in his mind, labeled Neal in imaginary big block letters. He stared at the mound of cards that were now his, stacking them into a pile in front of him grumbling all the while. That made Neal's smile impossibly wider, always happy to get one over on the older man. Some part of Neal thought Peter deserved to get put in his place a little once in a while, because in all honesty Peter could have a vicious asshole streak a mile long.

Peter allowed himself to admire his younger friend a few seconds, any longer than that would be a bad idea, and continued to lose the game. He lost the next round when he called bullshit again, this time on Haversham. Too little too late he realized he was playing cards with the worst people on the planet to play cards with. Seeing Neal smile like he hadn't a care in the world was completely worth it though. He felt guilty in more ways than one when it came to Neal. Peter found it amazing that he stood next one of the greatest con artists on the planet and that said conman couldn't see that Peter was the one conning him. Peter's con kept him on his toes every day, kept him vigilant to every single move Caffrey took. Moreover, Peter's con was that he was irrevocably, completely, without a doubt in love with Neal Caffrey. And it stung.

When the game was over, the beer and wine gone with it, Peter stood to leave. It was always awkward when he went home when he wasn't here on business, or to yell, or to yell about business. He stood there, coughed, and gave Neal a sharp nod and an "I'll see you later". Neal quirked his lips and cocked his head a little to the side, amused but not willing to make the awkwardness go one a second longer. Mozzie rolled his eyes at them, they both needed a high five in the face with a chair as far as he was concerned. A fed wasn't his first choice for Neal but Peter seemed to genuinely care about the kid. Sometimes the suit was a little too much like Kate, not that he would ever say that out loud. Neal could always rescind his wine drinking rights. That would be a dark day indeed.

The door closed with a soft click. Neal spun around on his heels to face Mozzie, fire in his eyes. Mozzie grinned just to ease the tension, "So Adler's back. You know, he seemed like the live and let live type."

Neal raised an eyebrow, "Are we talking about the same man, here?" Adler had a lot to do with the man he was today, but there were definitely no paternal feelings there. He was worldly, sophisticated, but Neal had seen him on the days when he glided through rival business men like a great white shark ready to devour his next victim. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, Neal knew he should have saw what Adler was planning coming. He'd been blinded, by so many things. Even so Neal was having trouble coming to grips with the fact Adler was responsible for Kate's death. Peter showed him the picture of Adler with him dutifully in the background two days ago and all the pieces began to click in place. Kate, the music box…Neal had never had the desire to murder anyone in all his life until he started his work for the white collar unit. Now the feeling was so familiar it sat in his stomach, coiled cold and sharp, waiting for the opportunity to make nightmares real.

* * *

Adler let the body of the woman drop unceremoniously to the floor. He straightened his tie and cufflinks as a matter of course. Dabbing the blood away from his mouth with a silk kerchief he stepped over the corpse to stand out on the hotel balcony. He really did love New York, he'd missed it. Adler couldn't see Neal's residence from this distance but he stared out to where it vaguely was located anyway. A persistent blinking from his laptop was the only light in the room behind him, it was a map, a carbon copy to one Agent Peter Burke checked before going to bed every night and upon waking every morning. Adler usually wasn't one for these kinds of games. Killing Kate was always a part of the plan, exploding her before Neal's very eyes wasn't. He had no choice though, Burke had showed up for no good reason and ruined a beautifully constructed getaway. The agent was becoming a bigger and bigger problem. Adler had lost key players, now he was growing impatient. Losing patience for a man that had lived well over two hundred years was a rather serious blow to the pride. He would deal with Burke when the time came. For now he was going to sneak into his favorite con artist's dreams and do something illicit.


	2. Chapter 2

Blood on the Collar

Chapter 2

Neal woke with a start. A fine sheen of sweat had accumulated on his body. He wiped at his forehead, annoyed and distracted. Neal let himself gulp in crisp early morning air, when he could he loved to leave the balcony doors wide open. Sometimes it was necessary, certain (perfectly legitimate) chemicals tended to hover in the air for a while after use. Currently he'd rather bask in a ton of those perfectly legitimate chemicals just to erase the dream he had. A dream that, despite his best efforts, was running though his head a mile a minute. Every touch, every delicate kiss, he could feel them all stinging hot as if it'd been real. Normally dreams like that were welcome but this one was more of a nightmare. Vincent fucking Alder, why did he have to dream about him of all people? Sure, Neal reasoned, there was a thin line between love and hate but if the line had been that thin world leader meetings would have to be aired on the XXX channel. Neal almost chuckled at the implications then quickly soured when unpleasant images filtered in. Shaking his head the con man rolled out of bed and into the bathroom.

It was early for most people, especially for a day off, but Neal could never be called anything remotely close to average. He showered and pulled on slacks and a well-fitted grey turtleneck. Coffee was already made and set aside for him. June was out but Elaine, the elderly maid that kept the place up, was home shuffling about yet somehow managing to stay invisible. Neal had tried to strike up a conversation with her once and quickly caught on that Elaine was a particular kind of maid. One that came from a long line of housekeepers very much devoted and very proud of their jobs, she was no different. The old biddy treated Neal with the severity of a governess. Elaine didn't like the fact she could no longer clean Neal's loft. It was for the obvious reasons of course, she'd dealt with Byron's nonsense for years but Neal would never be comfortable with someone, no matter how close, rummaging through his things. Secrets were meant to be secret, that was the whole point. Much of it was illegal as hell but also, and Neal would never admit it, he loved the romance of the cloak and dagger stuff.

Neal had just taken his first sip of the savory brew before his cell blared Mozart's Requiem, Mozzie of course had set the ring tone in himself.

"Mozz, it's—"

Mozz interrupted him in a hushed tone, par usual when he used the phone, "The eyes of the rodents see the city with truth, the raven's roots run deep and crack through the pavement."

Caffrey ran a hand through his hair, with no one about he had no problem showing his tell. "Mozz, I told you to lay low. Trying to find Adler is not laying low."

A pause, then, "I'm not trying to find Adler."

Huffing Neal leaned back into his chair not in relief but resignation. He already knew, mostly because he was probably the only person in the world who could instantly decipher the little guy's code.

"Because you already found him."

"Well, 'found', is a relative term."

"Mozzie." Neal uncharacteristically growled.

"Easy does it grasshopper, I can tell you Adler is in New York. This very moment."

The thought unsettled his stomach and conjured up the images of his dream to the surface, Neal wanted to wash his brain out with bleach. Mozzie proceeded to tell him about the plane Alder was seen getting off of and the black town car he was seen getting in. From there the informants Mozz paid well to keep him, obviously, informed couldn't keep track of the vehicle in the busy pick-up zone. Neal realized Adler would come back sooner or later, he'd just been hoping it would've been much much later.

"Don't do anything drastic, Mozz, I can't lose you too." When Neal thought about it, Mozzie was the oldest friend he had, friend at this point was too inconsequential a word. No, Mozz was family.

"Same to you Neal…are you going to call the Suit?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Hmm, something tells me you have." Mozzie said musically.

"There was a time you let me believe I was conflicted." Neal mumbled.

"I still do and you still are. Con men never die, Neal."

"You think I'm conning Peter?" He asked.

"No kid, I think you're conning yourself."

* * *

If Peter stared any harder at the white board he would have burned a hole through it by sheer force of will. Pictures of familiar faces were taped here and there, facts and theories scribbled below them in red and black dry erase marker, all of this information and the agent still felt lost. In one way or another he always felt lost when it came to Neal. For now he put the board away and out of sight. El was dragging him to one of her friend's high-end parties. Peter could mesh with socialites when he needed to but he would always prefer his favorite sweatpants to slacks and tiny food.

"Hey hon, are you ready yet?" He heard El chime from down the stairs. Walking down he tried to plaster a smile on his face one that became real when he saw his wife. El wore a designer blue dress that embraced all her gorgeous curves and brought out her eyes. Peter gave a low whistle, earning him a playful smack on the ass. He was about to give her a more verbal compliment when he was interrupted by his cell phone.

"Agent Burke," He answered while El waited curiously. On the other end Jones reported the incident to Peter. Elizabeth immediately recognized the tightening around her husband's eyes, the sudden death grip on the tiny cell and the release of pained breathe from his lungs. This was bad. She waited until Peter hung up before she asked.

"What's happened?"

Peter sat down on the coach, stricken, "NYPD found the body of a woman in a hotel room…her throat was torn out. El, it was Alex. God, what am I going to tell Neal?"

* * *

Neal was on his way back from a new exhibit, anything new opened in his radius he was there the very next day, when the rain started to pour. He didn't bring an umbrella because they day had been clear and beautiful for hours, nothing had signaled the coming of rain. Running under an overhanging he debated hailing a cab or waiting it out in a coffee shop, it seemed a waste to spend a real day off trapped by the weather. With Adler in town the part of him that was pure survivalist thought it was insane to be out in the first place but Neal had a feeling when Adler wanted to make his move he would know, Neal Caffrey wasn't backing down from this. A shiver caught Neal suddenly, across the street he thought he saw…he blinked and the figure was gone. Shaking his head Neal was about to head to the coffee shop on the corner before a very real Peter and Elizabeth stepped out of Peter's car. They looked solemn, wearing the faces of those who bared evil news. Neal smiled at them both anyway.

"I'm guessing you two didn't track my anklet to invite me to a party." The young conman said gesturing to the clothes the couple wore.

El was the first to speak, smiling back at Neal's infectious grin despite the circumstance, "Neal, why don't we get you out of this rain before anything else, come on."

Most of the time Neal listened to El, whenever she called he came running, the woman had that effect on people. This time Neal didn't budge, instead he turned to Peter, "What happened?" His tone reflected the fear gripping his heart.

"It's Alex, she's gone." Peter, who had delivered news like this countless times to countless families before he went into the White Collar Unit, was fumbling with his words under the intense gaze of his friend. That he loved him more than he should only made the matter worse.

"Gone? Gone how?" He knew. Of course he knew, Neal just didn't want to believe it.

"They say she was murdered, Neal, I'm so sorry." For a moment Peter couldn't see Neal's eyes beneath the shadow of the fedora. Without a word he nodded and walked away from them, out into the torrential rain attempting to drown New York. Neal heard Peter yell after him and Elizabeth say a few soft words to Peter. Then nothing except the roar of the city. Neal was grateful for the rain, at the very least this way no one could see him cry.

A/N: I know, I know, I killed Alex. It's all her fault really, being so bitchy this season and all. Thanks for all the reviews and please keep them coming :D. Also forgive the odd intervals between updating, I keep odd hours and never know when I'm going to work on a story.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you all so much for the continued reviews, they're what get chapters written! I know I'm a terribly slow updater, thanks for sticking with me *hugs*.

**Blood on the Collar Chapter 3**

Mozzie thought he should have seen something like this coming. The suspect list for Alex's killer was long in the eyes of the FBI who'd taken over the case from the NYPD the second someone breathed the woman's name over the phone line. In Mozzie eye's the suspect list was made-up of only one man: Vincent Adler. Alex had connections to the music box and Neal, Adler made sense. Mozzie had liked Alex well enough and was sad to see the world lose one of the new generation's great talents, something that disturbed him even more was the brutality of her demise. He didn't think Adler was the type of man to do something like that, he'd been wrong. Now Neal was paying the price.

The young con hadn't talked to anyone in the past two days. He'd already been fragile after Kate, now he feared Neal might join those in the desperation of madness for good this time. Mozzie would never let that happen, if he had to break into Neal's apartment then so be it.

* * *

Adler was getting familiar with Neal's comings and goings, more for curiosity's sake than any real need to keep tabs on his protégé. He did indeed still think of Neal as such. Soon he would be so much more. Alder held the cherub-shaped key up in the lamplight, gold glinting across the little angel almost happily, the vampire smiled. Once he took care of the FBI agent he would have the music box as well, then all that treasure would be his and with it he and Neal could go anywhere. Adler entertained that fantasy longer than was healthy, both of Neal and him and what exactly he would do with the agent, the man was way too close to his charge from Adler's perspective. As was Neal to his handler. Knowing that would make his job so much easier. Killing Peter would be the last straw to Neal's psyche, the young man would break, and the thought of what involved putting him back together gave Adler shivers of excitement. They would be together forever, ah yes, Adler was fully intent on turning Neal. What a lovely sight that will be. He wasn't sure when he had decided that but it seemed inevitable from their first meeting. Fate was usually such a bitch goddess but how she smiled on him now. Wasn't love a beautiful thing? Perhaps the better question was when had he started to become so sentimental? For some reason that angered Adler more than anything.

Storing the golden key in his new hotel's safe the vampire sat down to make a phone call to his favorite human mercenary. He'd killed the Hunter woman with his bare hands, while satisfactory as it had been her death had been unprofessional to say the least. The FBI was hardly a threat but he had intended for a clean breakaway and he would need professional help when moving day came.

* * *

The door swung open with the smallest of creaks. Mozzie stood at the threshold for a second, he'd come into his friend's home many times without an invitation, this time felt different though. This time he knew he wasn't wanted. There was no path of destruction as Mozzie had expected. In fact, there was no Neal either. Mozz looked outside as well as in the walk-in closet including the secret hiding place therein, gotta love old Byron for nifty feature, but Neal was nowhere to be seen. He tried to think about this calmly before he panicked like a schoolgirl. A fresh canvas was set on the easel with the barest outline of a building, Neal had obviously been about to paint as he was prone to do when he needed to clear his head, allowing him to focus on the external rather than the internal. No paints were set out ready for mixing though. Okay, that was a good sign. Neal must've just stepped-out and gotten something to eat…when Mozzie hadn't been looking, because he'd been outside his friends door for over an hour and June had said he was in…then he snuck past June, why would he do that?

With a sudden lack of eloquence Mozz murmured, "_Shit_."

He knew exactly where Neal had gone because he knew his friend better than anyone. Neal ran for only two reasons: freedom was his most common the other was so he could face things on his own. No hero complexes just the raw need to protect those he cared about even if it meant risking his life. But the kid just didn't understand, to those who loved him living in a world without him in it wasn't feasible. Especially not for Mozzie, in many aspects Neal _was_ his world. Now the kid had left once again, to find Adler and do what? Kill him? Mozzie returned to his original mission of preserving Neal's sanity knowing full well what murder, no matter how justified, would do to him. He called Peter.

* * *

Peter couldn't fathom why someone as incredibly intelligent as Neal could run head-first into some of the most idiotic decisions he'd ever seen. There had to be some sort of serious communication error between the guy's head and his heart, no question. A part of Peter couldn't help but to blame himself, somehow he thought he should have been able to protect Neal from all of this. He knew better. The best he could do was protect him now, and he would, Peter resolved.

The stashed whiteboard had soon made its home in the kitchen, with El, Diana, Jones, and even the little guy all stationed around it. When Neal went dark it took moving heaven and hell to find him, moving heaven and hell happened to be Peter's expertise by this point. Neal's anklet had abruptly been cut shortly after Mozzie rang-in. Peter was officially wearing his 'dammit Neal' face, El's lavender and chamomile tea wasn't doing anything for his nerves either. Worse yet he was onboard Mozzie's Adler theory and was absolutely livid when he found out Mozzie was keeping tabs on Adler then became mildly appreciative of Haversham's resources. No small feat tracking down a man who the authorities couldn't find for the better part of a decade in less than a week. Appreciative and suspicious, the two went hand in hand in Neal Caffrey's world.

"Why would he do this?" Peter asked the distraught Mozzie.

The shorter man shuffled his feet a bit, he was always uncomfortable revealing parts of Neal to others no matter if they cared for him too. He would always feel like Neal secrets were his own and he was painfully aware that Neal didn't always trust him as explicitly.

"He thinks he's doing this for _us_. Trying draw the danger away." Mozz wanted to go for something more poetic but his palms were starting to sweat and he gulped down the contents of his third cup of El's tea.

"Can you get your street contacts talking again?" The suit was in full-on catch Caffrey mode, it was strange being on this side of that Mozz mused.

"Most of them aren't going to come out of hiding considering the recent demise of one of their own, but Neal's made three friends for every enemy, somebody will talk you can count on that suit."

The information didn't really make him feel that much better but at least he wasn't sitting on his hands like he normally had to do when Neal went AWOL.

"But you know who we really need to be trying to find…" Mozzie began.

Peter's mouth formed a flat line, "No. No way, I don't want anyone near him. If we're right Adler killed Alex, he won't think twice about doing the same to you or somebody else."

"But Neal—"

"We're going to find him before he gets to Adler." Peter responded in a no nonsense tone.

Mozz thought about making a retort, telling the suit about the facts behind every time the agent had "caught" Neal. He didn't, for once Mozz swallowed his words, more worried about his friend than making a point to the feds.

"Then I have shady people to converse with." Mozz said.

Peter nodded and El showed him out, wrapping a comforting arm around the conman's shoulder.

* * *

"You know, I always thought you and I would end up on the same side again eventually. Fate as it were."

"As it were."

"So, Caffrey, how'd ya find me?"

"It wasn't so difficult, followed the trail of bad taste and dead bodies."

"Heh, you always had a way with words."

"Cut the crap, Keller, are you in or not?"

"Oh, I'm definitely game."


	4. Chapter 4

**Blood on the Collar**

**4**

Diana was the first to back her boss's play on anything, especially when it came to Neal. Despite all she had to admit she liked the guy. Against all her efforts they had become friends and she was glad they had. But now she was torn. Neal was off the reservation again and they were all trying to find him. Guilt crept in. Diana wondered if she had told Neal the truth, that the FBI, more specifically Diana herself, had the music box and shared information with him instead of keeping him in the dark and treating him with kid gloves as Peter so often liked to do, if this whole situation could have been avoided. Neal was smart, and a grown-ass man, she knew he could've handled it. But Peter was, Diana smirked in spite herself, head over heels. When you love someone you want to protect them, sometimes though that just got in the way. She spoke from experience. But if Neal was in con mode she was in FBI mode, meaning she had to treat him as a criminal to be able to catch him and that too felt like a betrayal.

She finished her last call to one of the local top-rated hotels, hoping to find a lead on Adler who shared the same taste in lifestyle as Neal what she found instead made matters a helluva lot more complicated. The manager on call had the copy of the paperwork in the agent's inbox in a matter of minutes.

"Boss! You gotta see this." Diana quickly turned her silver laptop around to a wide-eyed Peter. Brown eyes assessed the information then closed, the pads of Peter's thumbs rubbed circles into his temples.

"Tell me we're not thinking what I think we're thinking." Peter bit, half falling-down tired half righteous fury at the horrific timing.

"That's one of the aliases Caffrey burned for us, it's never been used. Keller might think we don't know about it." Diana said while she plotted the Hotel's position on the map spread across the Burke's dining table.

"Or he doesn't care, and that makes me worry, Keller's too careful to use a name that Neal may know about. Not when he's trying to avoid every badge on the planet."

"You think he's connected to Adler?" Diana asked.

Peter stared at the fresh dot on the map, ink bleeding beyond its borders, with his lips pressed into a hard unforgiving line. "When it comes to Neal, I've realized it's always all connected." The elder agent looked up suddenly more aware of his surroundings, "Where's Jones?"

"We ordered Thai remember? He went to go pick it up…you set your GPS for the restaurant before he left."

"Right…right."

"Maybe you should take a break boss? A half-hour nap never killed anybody." Diana reasoned. She placed her hand on his shoulder reassuringly, gently, but the motion left no room for argument. Peter huffed and made his way over to the coach, flopping down with a groan. Damn back. He knew for a fact Diana would be a great division leader one day, or even now by the way she handled her boss.

"Wake me in thirty." Peter ordered.

"Got it boss."

* * *

The cell phone ringing was a burner, bought when Adler reentered the United States, it was nothing special. The only number ever dialed on it was the man who was calling now. Adler was out enjoying the night of New York which was one unlike any other in the world. No other city had its mingling of lights that, when looked at with an artist's eye, was as brilliant as the stars. New York smelled different, tasted different, energy wrapped around every building threatening to burst into a menagerie of life. He understood why Neal was so attached. The caller had no respect for views like this one. Adler hit the talk button, his mood between interested and sour.

"Ah, it is done then?...Then why are you talking to me now?...See it through, no mistakes. You know who I'll hold responsible." He snapped the phone shut gone from sour to full-blown irked. It was softened somewhat by his amusement at how much he missed slamming phones shut when he hung up, that nice satisfying snap, no longer available with the on-set of smartphones. Adler had watched the procession of human technology with distaste; it made him feel like a relic of a long-gone era.

Beneath all his current musings was an undeniable giddiness. The word best described the feeling creeping along his spine. Adler hadn't hated anyone for a long time. He'd taken lives for numerous callous reasons but he never _felt_ them. Those people could have just as easily lived had fate been kinder. Fate was never kind, and neither was he. Peter Burke though, that man was an exception. Adler hated him. Loathing exuded out of every pore for him just as much as he ached for Neal. His only regret was Burke would go so quickly and the man wouldn't live to see him make Neal his. A car bomb wasn't the most elegant life-ending device but he thought there was some poetry in it considering the way Kate was snuffed out of existence. After the agent was taken care of his next step was to locate the music box. The task wouldn't be difficult using his FBI resources. And Neal wouldn't be able to resist the resulting treasure, fight as he might, the young con was like him in enough ways to count.

* * *

Two men clad in dark suits met a block down from the Federal building in New York. In their small corner the only light was that of an almost orange street light and the neon bar signs flashing through nearby windows.

"Did you get it?" Neal asked from under a black fedora.

"What do I look like eh?" Keller tossed the file to Neal who caught while trying to bite back a smart-assed retort. Peter's comment about Ratso Rizzo came to mind.

Neal managed to keep the smile from his face. He opened the file, running through it efficiently, then stopping at a large full color photograph of a music box. Neal glared at the photo, a lesser piece of paper would have burst into flames. It was a music box but not _the_ music box.

"We got a problem?" Keller asked around a freshly lit cigarette.

"Peter didn't turn the music box over, this one is similar," he held the picture up for Keller to see, "but it's definitely not it. The FBI doesn't have it."

The other conman let out a billow of smoke, somehow making it seem impertinent, "Looks like your pet Fed doesn't trust ya as much as ya thought, huh Caffrey?"

Keller hadn't been too terrible to Neal but he stuck it to him every chance he got when the FBI was concerned. To Keller, Neal actively working with the Feds was a crime against all that was natural. He knew though presented with the same opportunity he would have taken it, of course _he_ would have been in Italy within a week after his release. As a fellow con Keller couldn't understand why Neal was still here.

Tugging down the rim of his fedora Neal ran possible explanations in his mind. The only reasonable answer was Keller was right, Peter didn't trust him. It was like opening an old wound, one that had never really gotten to heal.

"Diana." Neal said like the name like it could open a secret passage Arabian Night's style.

His new partner's eyebrows went up his forehead, "The Wonder Woman Fed? What of 'er?"

Neal put the file back together and slipped it into a specially made pocket inside his suit jacket, "Diana was the only one working with Peter on this, the way they acted around each other tells me they never stopped. Peter wouldn't ever keep it in his own house, not with me in arms reach. Diana is the only person he'd trust with it. She has to have the box." As he spoke his voice was all business, robotically stating facts and defending his reasoning. Because if he let his heart into this, he would never go through with it. Moving forward was his only option.

"So we're going pay Wonder Fed's place a visit, right?"

A ghosting of cold hair went across Neal's neck and he nodded. "We stake the place out first. No one gets hurt."

Keller shrugged and smiled a not-smile, "Sure Caffrey, you're the boss."

* * *

Clayton Jones was two blocks away from their favorite Thai place when the car suddenly stopped. The car was Peter's, he had driven both him and Diana to the Burke residence after the official hours were put in at the bureau. Jones was glad to get a break from the absolute nothing they'd been turning up. He liked Neal, he did. Neal was a good guy, had your back when it counted, had a beer waiting for you when it counted. Jones also liked rules. Rules were there for damned good reasons, following those rules got you along in the world. That's where he and Caffrey clashed and it wasn't something Jones could simply look over as an FBI agent.

He tapped the flickering console screen impatiently thinking his day couldn't get any worse. There were no other cars in the street, he was grateful at least for that. He really didn't feel like getting yelled at by another grandmother this week. Sometimes he thought his father had been right about becoming a lawyer. Jones looked to the sidewalks and the small spaces between the buildings. An odd coiling of his stomach heightened his senses—his own personal version of the famous "Burke Gut". Something was wrong. The only cause for the car to stop would be the battery, if it were that low he would have had problem starting it. A sudden surge of self-preservation had him tearing off the seatbelt and fumbling with the door handle. The door swung open, one foot landed on the pavement and in the shadows of a derelict pawn shop a figure pressed a button.

For a moment the quiet street was bathed in orange, lighting up small businesses and a couple of houses like the sunrise. The figure fell further in the shadows. He licked his lips, flashing a pair of white fangs. This was a problem. The man inside the car hadn't been Peter Burke, he'd _thought_ it was. He _saw_ Burke get in the car and a minute later he saw the car leave. _Fuck_. Adler was going to be pissed. The vampire didn't stay to watch his work smolder, he could already hear the sirens. In a blink of the eye there was no figure there at all.

If he'd stayed he might've saw Jones' body thrown clear from the car wreckage. His agent's instincts had done him good. Jones was able to get out before the detonation but he wasn't free from injury. Glass was imbedded in his back, drenching his skin with blood. The force of the explosion made him hit the ground so hard he was sure he'd broken a couple ribs judging by the way it _hurt to goddamned breathe_. Jones took sharp intakes of breath trying to control his breathing, hell, to just keep on breathing. When he saw the man light up from the flames then disappear he didn't really think about what it meant, whether or not it was real, Jones didn't really think about anything. Instead the black spots splayed across his vision condensed until he could see nothing but the void.

**A/N:** Look my dears an update! No matter the inconsistent posting I promise this story will be finished…eventually. And I don't have anything against Jones, I swear .


	5. Chapter 5

Blood on the Collar

5

Air inside the hospital was what Peter expected: sharp, clean, but stuffy. The sensory overload pushed him further along in his unhinged state but far from breaking him.

Jones had so many wires attached to him it was almost surreal that they all could possibly have a purpose. No one was allowed to try and talk to him yet, but Peter and Diana were allowed to look on through thick glass. The doctor explained, in that cool, detached way doctors do, that Jones suffered from several lacerations; luckily no debris punctured any vital organs. They were, however, concerned about his brain swelling. In the meantime they waited. That's what you did in hospitals because there was nothing else anyone could do.

Diana's knuckles were white from gripping the frame of the window too hard. Christy eventually showed up with boxed food and good coffee. Hospital coffee made the office stuff taste liked it was brewed from God's personal stash. It was strange how something as simple as a good cup of coffee was so damned comforting when the world felt like it was falling apart around you. Christy, who was surprisingly the bossy one in their relationship, made sure they both ate the meals she brought. Every few hours a different nurse might come tell them something about Clinton's condition. Red and purple was already bleeding over the horizon when they were collectively told the doctor believed Jones would make it. By that time El was there helping Christy with what she called "soldiering duties". Things were looking up, before Diana's cell rang. Whatever she heard on the other end caused her face to flush with rage.

"Diana?" Peter prodded.

"Someone just broke into our fucking _home_, Peter. Our _home_."

Peter's eyes widened, "The box." It wasn't a question. According to the building security the alarm had just been triggered, they were there in seconds. After surveying the rooms quickly they found her closet door light on and inside was an open safe. Nothing else was touched. The perpetrator knew exactly what he wanted. A new weight settled between the two. Neither voiced what they were thinking because it didn't need be. Neal was their suspect number one.

* * *

Neal suppressed the urge to break Keller's nose. Okay, he would admit he suppressed that particular urge 99.9 percent of the time when in striking distance. Keller had that effect on people. But right now, he had to work especially hard to not bash his face in with a blunt object.

"What the hell!?" Three little words managed to convey his bone deep frustration.

Keller shrugged, "So what if I kicked the alarm on? They were gonna find out anyway, and 'course they're gonna think it was you. Might as well be open about it."

Neal stopped himself from running his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time. What was really irritating was the fact that Keller was partially right. Peter and the team would assume it was him. They always did. Neal placed the bitterness he felt in a mental box and pushed it away. This time they'd be right, good for them.

"Sooo," Keller tapped the center cherub on the music box then flicked it, "I'm guessing we shouldn't try pryin' it open."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets Neal let out a calming breath before sitting opposite Keller, the box between them on a pressboard bargain table. They were in one of Neal's safe houses. One Mozzie didn't know about. He'd learned a thing or two from Moz, one being there is no such thing as paranoia. Only precaution. And Neal trusted Moz, with his very life, sometimes though secrets aren't kept for selfish reasons. Sometimes secrets were kept to keep those you love safe. Mozzie would understand. Peter on the other hand, well, he was Peter.

Neal gave the box a quick once-over when they'd snatched it. Now he could see it had a missing piece on the lid and no visible way to open it.

"Then again," Keller continued, "do we really need ta? You're plan doesn't have much of its usual Caffrey finesse but it gets the job done, findin' out why this thing is so damn important doesn't do much for the end game."

"Maybe…" The missing part wasn't missing at all. Neal stared a little longer, a keyhole, clever.

"Or you could jus' ignore me. Never mind that whole bit about curiosity killing Caffreys though." To Keller, things were starting to feel like the old days when the two had been friends, brothers in arms. Thick as thieves was never quite an adequate term for them. Keller had made some mistakes, so had Caffrey, and that bond turned to ash in a clattering instant. He wasn't foolish enough to think they could ever go back, not after all the bad blood, but maybe he could hope. Caffrey needed him. There was no one else around who knew endgames like Keller. He knew how to get things done. He knew about revenge. He knew every dirty trick, invented a few himself. More importantly he knew what it was like to kill a man and that was exactly what Neal needed.

* * *

"Julian." The name was said with a velvet hum, covering the absolute venom creeping behind.

"Sir, I—" Adler interrupted the vampire's excuse with an ice pick to the neck. The blow was not a killing one, not for a vampire, especially not for one of Adler's own creations. His impatience was justly brought.

Julian wrapped his hand around the intruding spike but didn't pull it out, Adler would only jab it back in again. Instead he kept his mouth shut and allowed the blood seeping out through his fingers to drip unceremoniously down his designer shirt.

"My contacts at the FBI have told me an agent was recently injured. Apparently _Peter_ was very upset about one of his best agents getting blown up." Adler sipped at his brandy, "Understandable. Good help is so very hard to find these days…do you think I'm a fair man, Julian?"

The younger vampire's "Yessir" was slurred around clotting blood.

"I only do what's necessary, you know. Everything for the bigger picture. I've always been the big picture sort even when I was…younger. Let me tell you, Julian, a little piece of the big picture." Adler grasped the handle of the ice pick and slowly began to drag it out, "If you don't fix your monumental fuck up I'm going to remove your head from your shoulders, understand boy?"

With the metal gone the wound quickly began to stitch itself back together, this time his "Yessir" was a little clearer.

* * *

The hours of the morally ambiguous tended to be on the undependable side. Neal and Keller crashed out at his safe house after an hour or two of "pick the tiny stupid lock or do not pick the expensive mysterious tiny stupid lock". It was decided to give it a go when their vision was a little less fuzzy. The safe house didn't have a name like Mozzie's did, this one did have a view of the East River and when the sun hit it just right it was rather beautiful, but only for a few precious moments. Inside was mostly bare in that studio apartment way, only a few essentials were laid out here and there. Neal always took great care keeping his hideaways stocked and ready to go. You never knew.

The cots they slept in were far apart from each other. Keller's flush against a brick wall and Neal's far from the wall on the other side of the open space. When he'd moved in with June he slept with his bed similar to Keller's only to wake up in the morning with his face to a wall thinking for a second he was back in prison. The panic attack he had lasted for forty minutes. Little things used to set him off, always in the morning, but for the most part he'd gotten over it. Except for the bed thing. He couldn't stand waking up face to face with a wall anymore. Now, sleep was his enemy.

Everybody had nightmares. Neal wasn't special in that regard. This though, this was a brand new hell for him. Flashes of red and screams, the harsh taste of iron at the back of his throat. In the middle of all the death and raw torn flesh were himself and Adler. Adler pushing himself inside him, his mouth on him, and Neal helpless to stop it. Worse than that, he was _enjoying_ it. He was outside himself watching. Suddenly the scene was gone replaced; the shift so jarring Neal barely understood what was happening around him. He stood with Adler, the older man's arm wrapped protectively around his waist. The other Neal cradled something in his arms, something staining his clothes red. Neal ventured closer to the scene, aware now of his body and legs. The other Neal jerked his head to stare directly at him, his mouth twisted into a cruel grin, teeth drenched in the all too familiar crimson. His shadow-self tossed what he was holding to him and Neal instinctively reached to catch it. It wasn't an object at all, it was a head. Neal stared into the dead vacant eyes of Peter and screamed.

The next thing Neal knew was that he was covered in something wet and cold and he was awake on his own cot with Keller hovering above him. That shouldn't have been comforting, somehow it was. Keller raised an eyebrow at him, his expression briefly concerned before settling on extremely annoyed.

"You make it a habit trying to wake the dead Caffrey?" Asked Keller screwing a cap back the bottle of water in his hands without an ounce of remorse.

Neal blinked, "Not usually, no."

Keller pursed his lips and shrugged, dropping the water bottle onto Neal's lap. Neal didn't catch it, his hands were still under the thin blanket trying not to shake. "Right…breakfast?"

Neal wasn't hungry but he nodded anyway. He wanted to scrape the inner walls of his brain clean of the images, images that refused to fade, but he couldn't. What he could do is pretend he was fine. Fake it to make it.

* * *

Adler settled back into his own reality with a heavy sigh. He didn't need to really breathe; it was just a habit the vampire could never get out of. He was pushing Neal harder now, softening his mental barriers so that when the time was right there was no way he could fight him. Getting off on it didn't hurt either. Neal had the music box now meaning it was only a matter of time before Adler saw the young conman in the flesh. There was still the inconvenience of Peter Burke existing, which was hardly a reason to slow down progress. Adler toyed with the idea of saving Peter's head just like the pretty little dream he gave Neal. He could present it to him after he turned them to celebrate their union. Neal would think it thoughtful being such a romantic as he was.

A/N: Oooookay. I did warn ya'll I was a terrible updater, but those of you still reading this story I love you forever. Man, I really hate Adler now, like a lot. Which is weird since I'm the one writing him this way but the whole time I'm just kinda leaning back from the keyboard grimacing. Please review :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Blood on the Collar**

**6**

Moz had checked all of Neal's known safe houses. With Adler in town he was damn near hysterical. Though, in perspective, that tended to be Mozzie's process. They began with rioting anxiousness that gave way to the floodgates that were hysteria, when all that passed his mind was clear. Not to say empty, that feat would take a boat load of certain narcotics, more like _precise_. He was always best at that the precision plays, weighing the pros and cons, no pun intended. It made him the perfect man behind the curtain, others over-looked him, underestimated him. Everyone did at one time or another, all but Neal. He didn't set Neal on the path into this life, the kid had started that all by himself, Moz merely stepped in at a critical moment. There were plenty of great teachers out in the world but many were not as genteelly inclined as Moz. Finding Neal was the best thing that ever happened to him. Neal was a trouble magnet, Neal was broken, Neal was incredibly gifted, more than all of that Neal was family.

Family, the word was powerful, maybe more so than any other. It meant different things to different people of course, love, hate, awkward dinners, to Moz family meant Neal. No one on the Earth knew Neal like Mozzie did, he was after all the kid's personal Obi-wan. He knew Neal had his secrets. Places to flee in case of emergency in this particular situation. Mozzie would do the same. The older con man had a few secrets of his own.

Moz could almost feel the cooling wash of calm come over him. Yes, Moz knew things, too much, and he knew people, he knew Neal. The kid wasn't as dainty as people believed either; he'd learned his first slight of hands on the street like everyone else. What he was trying to do wasn't a mystery; his heart was in the right place, annoyingly it often was. Neal thought he was protecting everyone by handling this on his own. Moz slowed his yellow cab down in front of yet another derelict apartment building slated for demolition and scoffed to himself, yeah, when did thinking like that ever turn out well? Talent and passion went hand in hand, Neal was prone to his emotions no matter the mask he put them behind. Adler killing Alex must have been a crushing blow. Moz saw this coming; he never could get a handle on curbing it at the proper moment though. He was just a rock crumbling with the landslide that was Neal Caffrey. This time was different in that he shared responsibility. Moz was the reason Neal ever came in contact with Vincent fucking Adler, he would give anything to take that back.

For now the only thing he could do was find him, he certainly could too. Neal needed a place out of the way and low-key, multiple escape routes but easy access to the resources he would need. Currently Moz was doing a drive-by of all the places that would suit him on that criteria and a little bit of intuition. Intuition being palms he greased to have eyes all over the city, including the handful of compatriots he deemed worthy of friendship. Mozzie had them on high alert for any trace of Neal. As good as Neal was, the pull Moz had with the underground folks was actually pretty daunting.

Someone would see something and soon. He'd already heard some unnerving things from the wire. Keller braving New York made ripples for sure, as much as Moz hated the guy even that was less disconcerting than what he was hearing about Adler. His sudden outburst of violence wasn't so sudden, the man left a trail of cooling bodies behind him. The authorities didn't seem to be motivated in looking in to him as a suspect. Obviously there was some high scale manipulation within the ranks, wasn't there always? There was something more to it as well. Moz couldn't put his finger on it. Not yet. One more thing he would find out about. Again, Moz knew too much. More than the average flim-flam man, more than the average anybody. There were many things a wise man might wish to be ignorant.

* * *

"I don't think you're doin' it right."

"Shut up, it's right. You slide it into place…and wind it like so…"

"I don't think it's supposed ta sound like that."

"There is literally no other way to do it, Keller!"

"…I don't think you're doin' it right."

Soft off-key tinkling sounded off the walls of the bare room, Neal had to agree the sound wasn't normal by music box standards but he wasn't an idiot dammit he'd built a few of these things before. The lock on the lid hadn't been too difficult to pop, if anything it was frustrating because it was so tiny but Mathew Keller and Neal Caffrey were in same room: the baby lock didn't stand a chance. Together they discovered the second panel quickly enough after.

"No," Neal slumped down in his chair, "This has a purpose, we just have to figure it out."

"Yeah, well, best get on that then. I called that, uh, 'specialist' ya wanted. He'll be here in two days, you need to prepare yourself."

Neal glared at him through dark lashes, "I'm ready."

His rival scoffed, "No, you're not. If you were you wouldn't need insurance. You wouldn't need _me._"

That was true enough. Neal couldn't say he regretted not being like Keller, quite the opposite. He wasn't clean either, nor Robin Hood, he'd led a thousand lives and in none of them had he taken a life himself. But that one non-regret charged against all his mistakes stood hollow, Neal knew that. However he wasn't without his own resources, there was a certain key maker in the city who loved puzzles and owed Neal Caffrey a favor. He planned to know what was worth Kate's life.

* * *

Hughes' hands were clasped firmly in front of him, his brow pensive. The red creeping over his worn skin was the only indication of how enraged he really was.

"You understand I have to bench you for this Peter, for your own good."

"Sir, I—,"

"_Can it_. You realize the shit-storm you've brought down on us? Letting a felon run around without a leash? _Hiding_ the fact, and now we have one of our own on a hospital bed! And don't try to tell me the two aren't connected goddamnit, you think I was born yesterday?!"

There was a shared tense pause in the office, younger agents skittered about outside with worried glances to the glass door. Most had an inkling of what happened, word got around fast. The FBI was more terrible than a group of teenage cheerleaders when it came to gossip.

Sighed, "Go home Peter, this is an official investigation now."

Peter tightened his jaw, "This is Caffrey, sir, you need me to catch him."

"Contrary to your belief, Burke, we are pretty competent when it comes to apprehending criminals. Leave _now, _don't make me tell you again."

* * *

Pouring hot tea into matching cups, gift from a happy client, Elizabeth put on her most assertive "Honey, tell me what happened" face she had in her arsenal. Peter had asked for a beer which she promptly shot down, it was ten in the morning for heaven's sake. She already knew of course, it was written all over his face but she knew he had to get the words out. Talking helped him figure things out whether it was catching the bad guy or choosing a tie. He needed a sounding board.

Peter held the porcelain handle of the tea cup with worried eyes and gentle grip, he's broken one or two before. "I'm on suspension, maybe even up for review."

El put her arms around his shoulders and leaned into the crook of his neck. He allowed himself to settle into her warmth for a moment before straightening.

Calmly she replied, "Does that really change anything?"

And. Wow. No, it really doesn't. Peter still needed to find Neal, there was no word from Mozzie yet and that made him infinitely suspicious, the kid needed to be brought home. The bureau didn't have a chance of finding him, not now without Peter and Caffrey being more knowledgeable about the inner workings of the FBI than any other thief on the planet. The last being Peter's own fault.

"How'd I get myself into this?" He murmured.

"We do a lot of crazy things," El smiled sadly, "for the people we love." The pain between them was soft and understanding, even now they had no lies. Maybe a lie would have been kinder.

* * *

Keller stood at the shop's door keeping a careful eye on passersby while Neal spoke with the owner in the back. Said owner was a short, friendly older Japanese man, Neal spoke to him in his native tongue. Keller spoke plenty of languages himself but Japanese wasn't one of them, he'd spent his time in Asia mostly in mainland China anyway with a few forays into Singapore when the mood hit.

Neal hadn't brought the box itself when a recording would do. He also would never leave Keller alone with it either and forced the smarmy con to come with him to see the "Keymaster" and carrying it around wouldn't have been safe or practical. He just hoped the Keymaster could find something he missed. It was infuriating to have the box again and to know they were on to something but that _something_ just out of reach. Neal always felt like Tantalus, so near his desire and ever so far away. One day he would tire of the chase and his smile would fade. Honestly he wasn't expecting to make it that long, he never had.

The shop owner flittered this way and that, using microphones and some homemade devices Neal didn't even recognize. Overall Neal got the impression that while enthusiastic as Mr. Tsunetomo was, this would take some time. Keller was already pointedly glancing at clocks. He arranged for them to come back in the morning.

Neal and Keller slid out together, sticking out of sight. They had to liquidate some assets, and by "they" Keller had meant Neal, if they were to bankroll Keller's contact and considering who Adler was it needn't be said the amount of security they were expected. They needed supplies, and Keller had a thing for the Russian kit. The two were almost to an unimpressive storage unit when Neal noticed.

"Keller…what the hell is that?" Neal pulled at something fuzzy sticking out of the leather utility bag Keller sported.

"Hey, hands off." Keller tried maneuvering the bag out of the way but Neal was quicker. He pulled out a stuffed squirrel, forever about to chow down on an acorn.

Neal held up the lifeless animal with a look of horror, "Oh my god—did you still this from that little old man?!"

"S'what?" Keller snatched the thing back without a bit of shame.

The duration of emptying the unit of easily fencable contraband and hard cash was filled with Neal shaking his head and whispering '_ohmygod_'. He pictured Keller's lair, filled with blankets made of money and the stuffed corpses of animals everywhere.

* * *

Mozzie and Peter met down the street of the key store the following day. The two both received calls. Mozzie's was from Mr. Tsunetomo himself, informing Neal Caffrey just paid him a visit as Mozz included the elderly man on the list of those he asked to keep a look out. The man wouldn't however tell him what he was there _for_ because while Moz was a friend Neal was a client and that was just bad business. Peter got a call from Diana. A man was found murdered, bled out from a massive trauma to his neck and shoulder. Of course that was a terrible thing to happen to someone but that didn't warrant the FBI. The image found paused on a security playback was, Neal Caffrey had been there and now a man was dead.

"Neal's going to be next if we don't find him." Peter said. To him that message was clear. "If you know anything, anything at all Moz, you need to tell me."

Mozzie shifted behind his newspaper, grudgingly he agreed. "I _may_ know where he is. I haven't seen him there yet, and trust me suite no one needs to see the car I was camped in. But a couple of my resources are positive they saw him…but, they also say they've seen him with Keller too." That didn't sit well with either of them. How could Neal put his faith in a guy like that but leave the two of them in the dark?

Peter stood up, dusting off invisible dirt from his jeans, "Let's go." There was something different in Peter's posture, a strange mix of contrary heaviness and like a weight had been lifted off him.

Mozzie was more than happy to get as far from the crime scene that he could. He knew why Neal went to Tsunemoto, the man was one of the best code breakers in the city. Neal must've found a way to open the box after he'd stolen it and found something he didn't understand yet. That didn't really worry him. What Neal needed the box again for did. The only logical thing was a bargaining chip, maybe get a face to face with Adler. Nothing could be worse than that, Moz thought. They had to make sure those two forces didn't collide again. Sometimes though, all you could do is run from the resulting impact.

tbc


End file.
